


The Clones of the Republic

by Iconic_Name_I_Hope



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blyla, Clones, Death, Echosoka, F/M, Fivesoka, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, OT3, codywan - Freeform, jessix, rexsoka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2020-03-17 15:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18968491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iconic_Name_I_Hope/pseuds/Iconic_Name_I_Hope
Summary: What’s a description?Gah, I don’t know. These are just oneshots, basically. They don’t overlap or continue right now. Updates are slow but I’m in school so that’s excusable. Thanks for the views!





	1. Blaster Cleaning

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So. This shot is fluff. This one is several years old. Like, 2013 old. Yikes. Anyways. Enjoy!

BLASTER CLEANING: 

|/ Rex and Ahsoka; friendship; mildly suggested romantic feelings; fluff; one-shot\| 

NO TRIGGER WARNINGS.

There was a sticky glob of burnt something stuck to one of Rex's pistols, and it wouldn't come off. He scraped it with this; sprayed it with that. He slapped it with various rags and brushes. 

Where did that even come from? He asked himself. The rag he was using didn't do anything but smear the black goo all over the rest of the pistol, so he wiped his sweat away with it instead. He was sweating? 

Rex sighed, folded the rag up and tossed it across the weapons room. It fell in a corner and sat there, opening back up, begging him to pick it up and clean with it. 

"Hey, Rexter." 

Rex stiffened. Kriffing Jedi. You never knew when one was going to sneak up on you. 

He turned to face Ahsoka Tano, and shot her a grimacing smile.  
"Sir!" he shouted, snapping to attention. He didn't even have to check his form; the position came naturally. Rex even had time to smoothly slide his pistol into its holster as his arms went by his sides. 

"At ease," Ahsoka said, saluting him. Rex mirrored the gesture, then returned to his work. 

His commander came up by his side, uncomfortably close, and stared at his hands as he replaced the gun on the table.  
"What're you doing?" She asked, watching him closely. 

Rex grabbed his vibro-blade and attempted to scrape the glob off. It had no effect.  
"I got my blaster dirty, sir," the clone captain informed his commander. "I'm trying to get it clean."

"'Trying?'" Ahsoka asked, propping up on the table. "Is it hard?"

Rex slammed the blaster down on the table and rubbed it against the surface vigorously. It left waxy streaks across the table and he muttered a few Mando'a curses under his breath. 

"Do you need help with it?" 

Rex glanced over at her as she spoke. There was nothing in Ahsoka's expression that suggested she was playing with him. Her blue eyes were wide and expectant.

"If you wouldn't mind, sir," Rex said, stepping aside. He probably would've gotten it eventually, but if he could let his Jedi speed things up, then he would, in a heartbeat. 

The Togruta shot him a smile, then placed her hands on the goo, closing her eyes in concentration. 

Rex watched in fascination, as he always did when someone used the Force. There was a slight humming sound, and Ahsoka had pried off the junk. 

She stared at it, then at him, and then placed it in the disposal can. 

Standing, Ahsoka met his gaze.  
"Rex," she said, moving closer to him. 

"Commander," he said, trying to copy her tone to glean her meaning. 

"Ahsoka," she corrected, taking another step forwards. 

"Ahsoka," Rex repeated. 

She stopped a metre in front of him.  
"If you ever need help —and this goes for all the five-oh-first men —just ask. Master and I will try to make time for anyone who needs help." 

Rex stared at her, feeling a tense feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Thank you, sir," he breathed.

Ahsoka smiled and made for the door, straightening her sash. "Just ask next time," she said, and then she was gone.


	2. "What If?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needed to write about Kix. Just a little after-shot.

"WHAT IF?":

|/ Kix; Jesse; grief; angst\|

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Suicidal thoughts and attepmt; alcohol consumption.

 

The man ordered another round, ashen-faced and tired. He was young, not quite over thirty in appearance. The bartender hadn't even batted an eye when he'd come in, and that's what hurt the man. It had been so long that no one remembered. 

He tried to focus on his drink, tried to block out the memories that flashed through his mind. It was too much to bear. That was why he was here, wasn't it?

The man remembered a time when he could've walked into a bar on a planet like this one, and expect two different reactions. One; he'd be closely watched and given a discount of some sort, or two; his presence would cause several people to exit the bar immediately. 

He wasn't quite sure if he should be thankful or regretful. 

And this man certainly had his regrets. He knew the year. He knew what had happened because of him. Or rather, he knew what had happened because he'd failed. 

Kix sighed deeply, staring down into the dark liquid in his glass. It had lost its taste. Maybe it hadn't had one to begin with. He caught a fragmented version of his reflection and bit back a cry of pain. His own face wasn't even safe to look at. It was the face all of his brothers, long dead now, had shared. 

Maybe he should just end it here. There didn't seem to be any point to his existence anymore. The one goal he'd set himself, he'd failed. The one thing that could make everything else that had happened okay. He'd blown it. If he'd been a bit faster, just a bit. . .

Would everything have worked out? What if the Separatists hadn't gotten him? What if he'd told the Jedi? What if Fives hadn't died for nothing? 

But Fives did die for nothing, with all the good it ended up doing the Order, and the Republic. 

And he hadn't told the Jedi. 

The Separatists _had_ gotten him. 

The Republic had fallen and thousands of Jedi had been murdered because Kix had failed. He could have warned them. And he never got the chance. 

Kix adjusted his coat and pushed the drink away, leaving a tip for the bartender on the counter. He couldn't stay here anymore. The walls seemed to lean towards the centre of the room and the lights were too dim. He couldn't see, and he couldn't think. 

000

It was cold outside, but he'd been in cooler temperatures before. Two half-moons floated above a dim cityscape, almost level with one another. Dark trees in the distance cast a jagged silhouette against the evening sky. 

Finding a flat rock, Kix sat, turning his newly aquired blaster pistol over in his hands. Should he use it? He knew that it would solve his problem, but there was so much he didn't know, so many questions that he needed answered. 

It'd been fifty years, though. There was hardly anyone alive who could answer them. 

Did the Jedi feel betrayed? 

Did my brothers feel remorse for what they'd done? 

What happened to the clones?

Are the Jedi all gone? 

He doubted anyone had answers  for him, honestly. 

Slowly, he put the barrel of the blaster to his forehead. Kix closed his eyes and held the position. His index finger moved for the trigger. 

 _"No, stop!"_  

Kix paused. That was a familiar voice. His voice, in fact. 

 _"Don't do this,"_ Jesse said, sounding far off. 

He looked around for the source of his brother's voice, but saw nothing. 

The hand holding the blaster pistol dropped, and then his arm was back in his lap. 

"Jesse?" Kix realised how hoarse his voice sounded. He glanced around once more, desperate for a sign that he wasn't actually alone, that there was someone who'd actually understand. 

 _"Stay alive for me, brother,"_ Jesse said. Kix finally discerned a pale outline in front of him. He searched it until he found the place that Jesse's eyes would be. His brother's face smiled at him softly. 

Kix was the last clone alive, and the only one still living who remembered those old issues, but maybe he wasn't alone.  

 _"It'll be alright,"_ Jesse said again, and Kix could feel his brother's hand on his shoulder. The touch was reassuring, bringing back memories that he didn't want to see. Those times shouldn't be his definition of "the good old days", but they were. A time when he'd had everything he needed, and he didn't even know it until it was all gone.

His life then wasn't perfect, and it wasn't perfect now. Everyone he'd known and loved was dead, and he knew that they'd loved him too. Maybe that was enough to keep going. Maybe he really could stay alive, just for the contentment of having lived a life. 

"Thanks, Jesse," Kix said. His throat hurt; he hadn't spoken in a while.

He saw Jesse smile. _"I'll be waiting for you on the other side,"_ his vod said, and then faded from view.

Kix was the last clone left, but by no means did that mean he was alone. 

"I'll see you there," the former medic whispered. Slowly, he holstered the blaster pistol and stood up, ready to move on. 


	3. Another One Bites The Dust

ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST:

|/ Commander Cody; Obi-Wan Kenobi; after Umbaraa; friendship; hurt/no comfort; violent thoughts; minor character death (mentioned only)\|

TRIGGER WARNINGS: 

Death (mentioned); suicide (mentioned);  violent thoughts; considering murder. 

 

 

 

 

Commander Cody had lost another man. Waxer. Shot down by his own brothers. 

Cody hadn't known him very well off the battlefield, but he had always kept his head up. He'd been gentle and reliable. 

Now he was gone, just another body in the dust; another painted helmet. 

 

The 212th commander sat on a bench in a park on Coruscant, watching the happy families play around. He didn't understand why he had to fight for their wellbeing. They didn't deserve to have good men like Waxer die for their safety. 

Cody couldn't help but shoot a small, happy boy a contemptuous look. Deaths weren't supposed to impact the clones. It went against their programming. But every time the commander lost a man, or read the body count after a taxing mission, he wanted to hit something. He wanted to shoot the Jedi and the Senators in the eye and run and hide far, _far_ away, where he could cry and scream and release all the emotions that he kept pent up. 

He hadn't personally known Waxer, but if Cody combined the guilt he felt for Waxer's death with the body count from Umbaraa. . . 

It made him feel like he should take a gun to his own head instead. 

 

The air tasted fake here. The sun was too far away on this side of the planet to provide real warmth. Instead, enormous heaters kept the temperature in check. 

Cody considered taking out his blaster rifle and sending a round through the happy boy's face. It might make him feel better. Just hearing the amount of laughter that came out of the boy's mouth made Cody want to kill him.  

He fingered his blaster, contemplating. The parents would press charges. Cody, as a clone, wouldn't stand a chance. It'd be the end of the line for him. 

And then who would look after the 212th? 

”You're having a dark day,“ General Kenobi said, taking a seat beside Cody. The clone jumped, turning to stare at his general. Jedi could move with a level of silence that couldn't be achieved by even the most skilled scout clones.

”You could say that,“ Cody growled, taking his hand away from the blaster. He glared once more at the boy, who had finally noticed him. Probably because there was a Jedi with him now. 

General Kenobi placed a hand on Cody's shoulder, looking at the crowded horizon. He didn't speak another word, just gently applied pressure when Cody thought particularly evil things. 

Almost like the General was feeling his emotions right along with him.

“A good leader,” Kenobi began, removing his hand, “Is a shadow and a shield. A shadow when things are going well, ever-present, but not overbearing.”

Cody looked at Kenobi, but the Jedi did not meet his eyes. Perhaps he felt more majestic that way. 

“And a shield,” Kenobi continued, “When times are hard, jumping in and caring for his followers when his participation is needed most. He takes responsibility for his men, and he protects them.”

Cody turned his gaze to his feet, listening intently.

“A leader is only the sum of what his men make him to be,” Kenobi said, sitting back. “Just as the men are no more than what their leader allows them to be. In this way, neither are without the other.”

Kenobi finally looked over at Cody. “You and I are leaders of our men. We are there whether they need us or not. We take responsibility for their actions. We act as one. Is an anthill any less efficient with the loss of one ant?”

Cody grit his teeth. “If it's the queen,” he grumbled. 

“Waxer was not the queen,” Kenobi said. “We may still mourn for him, but we cannot pull back.”

Cody shook his head. He _knew_ this already. Kenobi's devotion book skills weren't going to help him through this. 

“Right now,” Kenobi said, “Your men need a shield. Umbaraa was not like other missions. They did things; you did things, and you can't undo them. You have to shield them. You have to help them move on.”

Cody decided that the grass was fake when it didn't scuff beneath his foot. “Who'll shield _me_?” 

“I will,” Kenobi said, standing. 

“And who will shield you?” Cody demanded. 

Kenobi was already walking away. “A chain only stretches so far.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was just in my head and needed to come out.


	4. Off Days

OFF DAYS

|/Kix; Fives; grief; coffee shop thing; angsty fluff thing\|

Kix wore his off-duty fatigues and clutched his list tightly. By his side stood Fives, dressed alike. The other clone’s expression was wistful as he gazed down at Coruscant below. The sun struck the buildings from a thousand different angles and shone off the cut glass as if it were polished diamond. It was rather beautiful, but Kix only had one thing in mind. 

“I’ll need you to help me carry stuff, Fives,” Kix said, studying the list. The Resolute slowly angled down towards their docking coordinates. Fives gave a terse nod and continued to stare off into the distance. 

Fives wouldn’t have been Kix’s first choice on a practical supply run. Usually, Lix was pressed for time and would take someone active who could be ordered around. However, Fives hadn’t been feeling too well since the Citadel, and for good reason too. So Kix had decided to take his brother with him to get medical supplies. Partially so he could keep an eye on him, and partially so he could slowly ease the ARC back into some sort of social life. 

It wasn’t a bad plan. 

000

The supply mart was their first and only stop. It so happened to be the cheapest place to buy medical supplies. Kix pulled Fives along behind him and grumbled at the prices. 

“I know gauze pads were at least two credits cheaper last month!” The medic retorted, angrily placing a large pack of them in the basket Fives carried. 

“Inflation,” Fives said dully. 

“Yeah, well, if they keep this up we’re going to have to try and get by with just the issued med supplies,” Kix sighed. They both knew the Republic didn’t give its military enough medical supplies to last them the battles ahead, and Kix suspected it had a lot to do with the fact that its military consisted almost entirely of clones. Why save a hurt one if you didn’t have to? You could always just replace him. 

Angrily, he finished gathering the things on his list and they made their way to purchase what Fives held in the basket. 

At last they were headed out and back towards the Resolute. People didn’t scramble out of their way, as they usually did, and it was a welcome change. 

“Ay, that’s the stuff you put on that scrape I got last time we went planet-side,” Fives said, pointing at a bottle of alcohol in the basket. 

“If you can call that a scrape, then that speeder over there is safe to ride on,” Kix responded. “But I’m glad you were paying attention.”

“Of course I was,” Fives responded, shifting the basket to his other arm. “Echo was with me. Even if I was missing a chunk of my leg, he made it better.” 

Kix didn’t know how to respond to that. 

“You know,” Fives continued, “We still have eight more hours on the surface. If you aren’t too busy, maybe you and I could hang out? I know some good places.” 

Kix thought hard about that. He had two more lists of things he had to do back on the ship, but it was nothing he couldn’t take care of whenever they departed. After all, it took them hours to get from place to place. And Fives was talking more than he had in ages. 

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s drop this off, grab some money, and then we can head back out.” 

000

An hour later, the two of them were strolling along a crowded street underneath an artificial sun. “Why d’ya think the sky is blue?” Fives asked. “Isn’t like there’s an ocean or anything around here.” 

“I don’t know,” Kix said, guessing it was probably fake; a projection of some sort. 

“This place here was mine and Echo’s favourite spot to get a nice cup of caf,” Fives said, with a huge grin on his face. Even to Kix, who didn’t know him very well, the smile seemed faked. 

“Did you come here often?” Kix asked as they neared the entrance. He opened the heavy glass door and held it as Fives entered. 

“Oh, yeah, every time we came down to the surface. The baristas knew us pretty well, and gave us discounts a few times.” The ARC trooper raised a hand and gestured to a sunny window seat. Kix glanced at it and looked closely at his brother. 

“That was his favourite place to sit,” Fives said wistfully. His eyes looked wet to Kix, but he knew what his brother felt and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

They stood in a short, slow line, and Kix looked around at the many different colours that decorated the coffee shop. Sea blue and emerald green and clear yellow in the windows, a soft-looking red rug on the floor, turquoise cushions with swirling spiderweb patterns in gold and black on all of the seats. The tables and counters were made of dark mahogany wood, and everything looked so rich. 

Nothing looked the same, and it looked like somewhere you could sit and drink and relax and forget that you were born on a planet that was the exact opposite of this one room. 

“What can I get for you?” The barista asked Kix when it came his turn. 

“One black coffee please,” The medic said simply. Fives scoffed. 

“And for you?” she asked the ARC. 

“I’ll take a caramel latte with whipped cream and chocolate,” Fives informed her. 

Kix nearly exploded when he saw the cost of the two drinks combined. 

When their drinks came, Kix wasn’t surprised to see Fives going to sit at the warm window seat. He was a medic, and not a psychologist, so he didn’t know if it was healthy for his brother to indulge old memories. Filled with that uncertainty, Kix sat beside the ARC trooper. 

Fives drank his beverage with an expression that couldn’t have been anything but disgust. “Don’t you like your drink?” Kix asked him. The medic liked his, although it was a little stronger and richer in flavour than the powder that he got from his ration packs. 

“It was what Echo ordered every time,” Fives said choking on the coffee for the fifth time. 

“What did you get?” Kix asked. 

“Just a plain mocha.”

“Why didn’t you get that instead?” 

Fives pushed the drink away from him and tears rolled down his cheeks. “Because Echo loved it. And I loved Echo.” 

The ARC trooper dissolved into quiet sobs, coming up for air to get another sip of the drink he didn’t like every few minutes. Kix was thoroughly confused and didn’t know what he should do. Maybe his brother just needed time to cry, and someone around who wouldn’t judge him. 

“I never thought there’d be a mission where one of us would come back without the other,” Fives sniffled. “We survived Kamino together, we survived Rishi together, we survived Kamino again and ARC training, but we couldn’t do this last one together. We couldn’t come back here just one more time.” 

Fives pushed the drink away again, and this time it spilled all over the table, which made the barista angry and made Kix very uncomfortable. 

“Why couldn’t it have been me, Kix? If we’d found him you could’ve fixed him and then I’d be here with him and I wouldn’t have to drink this awful excuse for caf. I wish I was dead.” Fives furiously glared at the spilled coffee, and Kix wondered if that meant it was time to leave. 

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t have done anything. You couldn’t have possibly gotten him out of there, and there wouldn’t have been time. Echo didn’t make it this time, and I’m sorry. But there’s never been a mission where everyone made it back. It was Echo’s turn to go.” Kix didn’t know if he’d help. Most times there was no way to help a brother come to peace with the loss of someone close to them. Kix had lost brothers before, and he kept losing them, and it wasn’t okay, but he had to be. He had to be okay so he could help people and do his duty. 

“It’s selfish to wish it, but I’d have rather lost anyone else. It was supposed to be Echo and me. We were born together, we fought together, and we were going to die together. He wasn’t supposed to go without me.” Fives looked worse than Kix had ever seen him. 

“You’ve gotta pull yourself up, Fives,” Kix said. “We leave again tomorrow. You’ll have time to grieve, and I know you’ll never get over it, but you have to try to not think about it.” 

“This place doesn’t feel as good anymore,” Fives said. “I miss Echo, you aren’t him, and his favourite drink is awful. The barista didn’t know me, and I made a mess.” 

The ARC paused for a moment. “Can we go home?” 

Kix smiles gently and nodded. He knew now that it had been a bad idea to allow Fives to bring him here. It might have gotten some feelings out, but it also tarnished the good memories his brother had here with Echo. 

“Let’s go home,” he said.


	5. Hopeless

HOPELESS

|/ Bly; Aayla Secura (mentioned); clones don’t have much money; \| 

He stared at all of the shining things through the glass; watched as men went in, tossed over some credits, and emerged with a string of jewels to give to their beloved. He sighed and fingered the few credits in his pocket and felt very pathetic. 

Even if he could afford something like this for his general, he couldn’t give it to her. It would be awkward and out of order and highly inappropriate. Besides, it would ruin the strong friendship between Bly and his general if it didn’t work out. 

And it wouldn’t work out. He told himself that every night when he lay in his bunk, wishing there were someone beside him to make the chilly nights less cold. He’d shit his eyes and imagine what he’d say to her and what she’d say to him, in a more perfect world. Bly could dream all he liked, but when he opened his eyes, he was the Commander again, and she would always be the General, tangible and empathetic but so impossibly out of reach. 

With one last sigh, he turned away from the glass window, promising himself that when this war ended, he would buy her all the diamonds he could afford. He would shower her in gifts, because she wouldn’t be his superior anymore and it wouldn’t be punishable. He would reach up and string the stars on a glittering wire and hang them around her neck, and he would bring down the moon and fashion it into a crown, and every being who passed her by would see her just as radiant and angelic as he did. 

Maybe he could buy her a bagel. Bagels weren’t suspicious. Besides, it was just about all he could afford anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for 1,000 reads!


	6. Shame

SHAME

|/Fives; Tup; Echo (mentioned); angst; unhealthy coping mechanisms\|

He hadn’t meant for it to go this far. One too many kind words spoken in with a mannerism so alike to Echo’s and suddenly Fives couldn’t stop himself. 

He knew it wasn’t fair. The ARC knew he was using Tup, and that it was wrong to treat him this way. Echo was gone, but instead of living with that, Fives would force Tup to fill that void. 

Tup, sweet and innocent and kind to Fives; trusting and smart and incredibly similar to his former beloved. He didn’t deserve this. He deserved to be in a relationship where he enjoyed equal pleasure. 

That was something the younger clone did not get with Fives. And Fives knew it. He knew that Tup never would have initiated this on his own. He knew that Tup was not Echo. 

But he couldn’t wrap his mind around that harsh reality, so for now, Tup would continue to serve as the substitute for the one who was never coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, when I try to write long things from small inspirations it turns out wrong. Here ya go.


	7. Bad Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tup has a bad dream and comes to see Ahsoka in the middle of the night.

BAD DREAMS

|/ Ahsoka Tano; Tup; fluff; nightmares; hurt/comfort \|

Ahsoka Tano had not expected to be awoken by the sound of someone tripping over her threshold at three in the morning. She sprang up and lit the room with one of her lightsabers defensively, only to find a very terrified and upset-looking Tup sprawled across the floor. 

“Hey there,” she said, finding a lamp and switching it on. Her lightsaber returned to her belt and she extended a hand to help the disheveled clone trooper off of the floor. 

“Good evening, sir,” Tup said, coming to attention the moment he stood upright. 

“As you were,” Ahsoka said, eyeing him up and down. He was dressed only in his blacks, meaning he had not come to get her for official business. “Did you need something?” 

Tup laughed awkwardly, rubbing a hand through his messy hair. Usually it was kept in a tight, centred bun, but now it was gathered clumsily only mostly on the centre of the top of his head. “Actually, sir, now that I’m here, it doesn’t seem so important, so I think I’ll go back to bed. . .”

“You wouldn’t have walked all the way here if you didn’t think it was important,” Ahsoka pointed out. She led him over to her bed and they sat down. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

Tup laughed again, but it lacked humour. “Well, sir, this might sound a bit stupid. I had a nightmare? I wanted to make sure you were still alive.” He looked at the floor after speaking, and Ahsoka detected feelings of shame radiating away from his mind. He felt guilty, but why? 

“I’m still here,” she reassured him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Again, he radiated guilt. He didn’t bring his eyes off the ground when he said, “Only if you promise you won’t get mad.” 

Ahsoka didn’t know what could be so bad about his nightmare that it might anger her. “Okay, I promise,” she said. 

“I dreamed I shot you while your back was turned. I don’t know why, and I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to do it, but I felt like I needed to.” Tup’s gaze had risen from the floor and now stared blankly off in the distance. 

“I can see why that scared you. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Ahsoka said. “Do you want a hug?” 

“I shouldn’t touch you, sir. What if I try to kill you like in my dream?” 

“You’d never hurt me, Tup,” Ahsoka reassured him. He nodded slowly and finally met her eyes. Then, slowly, they embraced. Ahsoka squeezed him as tight as she was able, conveying her love and concern for him in her actions and through the Force. 

Tup visibly relaxed when they were through, and the look in his eyes was still scared, but grateful. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked in a calm voice. 

“This is stupid, sir, but could you tuck me in? Like mamas tuck in their little babies?” He seemed so embarrassed for asking, and it melted Ahsoka to see him like this. 

“Of course,” she said, smiling. She took his hand in hers and they walked out of her quarters and towards the barracks. 

None of his brothers were awake apart from Kix, who observed them indifferently before rolling over and beginning to snore. Ahsoka found Tup’s bunk with no trouble and helped him into it. He was only eight years old, and fighting this war had clearly taken a toll on him. Why else would he be having such awful nightmares? 

She pulled the blanket up around him and gave his hand one last squeeze. “Sweet dreams,” she said in parting, and then began the walk back to her quarters. 

Ahsoka missed the last smile Tup flashed her as she retreated.


End file.
